I swallow hard, my pulse beginning to pound. “Careful, now, Your Majesty. I wouldn’t advise flirting with me, unless you like kissing boys, because I’ve struggled all week as well, and I’m about two seconds away from?—”
Before I can register what’s happening, the prince leans forward and crushes his mouth to mine. Blindsided, it takes several moments to make my brain work, for my head to tilt the right way, my lips to soften and part for his eager tongue. But then it’s over, those first awkward seconds of learning the tempo and shape of our kiss.
And it is divine.
The prince’s hand slips into my hair, gripping the roots, and I cup his face, my wine glass forgotten. This kiss is a heady thing, more than I imagined it would be, everything about his mouth tempting me.
We kiss like two starved animals, sucking and biting and licking. I could stay right here, just like this, for eternity. The feel of his plump lips held between mine is that delicious. That perfect.
The wildness between us changes, though. The desperate hunger eases, just enough that our kiss turns softer. Deeper. Slower. An exploration. A tasting. I am utterly lost to it, this divine kiss, a kiss that feels like all that beautiful light earlier, bright and shining and warm, cascading through every part of me.
I turn my body toward his for more contact, and suddenly he presses closer. His hands are everywhere, sliding under my tunic to caress my naked skin, brushing across my nipple, then dragging down, down, down, trailing the length of my thigh before cupping the curve of my ass.
Unable to stop myself, I grip his waist and tug him toward me, gasping into his mouth when I feel the ridge of his thick cock against my hip. It’s bold, but I grab his hand and press his palm to my own erection, needing him to feel how much I want this. How much I wanthim.
He traces the outline of my cock, from my throbbing head to my tightening balls, squeezing me through my trousers until I exhale a sob of pleasure. With our mouths still connected, I flip him over, using the weight of my body to press him into the cushions. He spreads his legs to welcome me and whimpers when I rub my cock against his. I swear to the gods, that whimper is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
I grip his hands and drag them over his head, deepening our kiss. When I pull back a little, he catches my mouth with his, keeping me from getting too far.
“Colden,” he whispers, arching his hips toward mine, pressing his hardness against me once again. “Please,” he says, grinding. “I’m begging you.”
Please.Gods, that one word undoes me.
Everything changes again, because as we kiss, I feel myself being absorbed, feel my mind and body becoming lost to the wonder and mystery of this man. There’s a neediness inside me that wants to crawl inside the prince and never come out. Because he justfeelsright. Liketheseare the lips I’m meant to kiss. Likethisis the body I’m meant to hold. Likehisis the heart I’m meant to know better than any other. It’s overwhelming and soul-rattling to feel all this for someone whose name I don’t even know.
Finally, I free his hands and draw away, groaning as he sucks my lower lip, only letting go when I’m hovered above him.
“Tell me your name.” My voice is ragged. Breathy. “Tell me what I can call you. I’ll speak it only to you. Only tonight if that’s what you wish.” I lean down and kiss him again, threading my fingers with his. “I want your name on my tongue.”
He stares up at me with those beautiful hazel eyes, but I swear they darken, that a shadow passes over them. “I can’t give it to you, Colden.” His voice sounds sad. Broken. “I can’t, because I don’t know it.”
“What?” I pull back even more, something in his tone tugging at my heart. “You don’t know yourname?”
He shakes his head, his eyes growing glassy. “I’ve never known it. Not that I can remember.”
If he were anyone else, I’d call him a liar. But I sense no untruth in his words. Nothing but honest pain. Pain that he’s feeling forme.
“Then I’ll call you my prince,” I whisper, tracing his cheekbone with my fingertip. “And that will be enough.”
I feel him relax beneath me, his body welcoming me once more, even more so than before. He slides his hands up my back, feeling the curve of muscle, the divots of my spine, the jut of my shoulder blades.
Then he whispers, “Come here,” and draws me down into another kiss.
In moments, all worries about my prince’s name are forgotten, and I’m entranced by the inescapable gravity of him. He wraps a leg around mine and buries his hands in my hair, and I melt into him, trailing my kiss to his chiseled jaw, the shell of his ear, the long column of his throat, until he moans and murmurs my name like a prayer.
But it isn’t enough. I need his skin on mine.
“Please take your shirt off,” I beg him as I strip free of my own. I don’t know if anyone will venture this way, and I can’t say I care.
He fiddles with the row of endless buttons on his tunic until I reach down and give one side a hearty yank, sending pearls clattering across the rooftop.
“That was my favorite shirt,” he says with laughter in his chest, even as he rises on his elbows and hurries out of the garment.
“I’ll send you another,” I whisper into his neck, pushing him back down, dragging my teeth along the muscle that stretches to his rounded shoulder, just to hear him moan once more.
Gods, if his hands explored me before, it was nothing compared to now. His warm palms smooth over my shoulders and down my arms, squeeze my chest and travel the length of my abdomen. He slides his hands over my ass again, pulling me closer, his strong fingers kneading, making me dizzy with more want than I know what to do with.
“May I put my mouth on you? Please?” I say against his ear as I reach between us and grip his cock. “Right here.”
